Are you comfortable with holiness?

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Do you remember when Christians were occasionally accused of having a “holier-than-thou” attitude?

Holiness became something we thought we were supposed to avoid in order to make others feel better about themselves. 

Sadly, holiness is our calling and our great gift. 

To start with, what is holiness? 

Most of our discomfort with the word can be cured with a right understanding of the definition. 

We need to define the word like Scripture defines it and not as our culture does. 

The biblical meaning of “holy” 

In the Old Testament, the Hebrew word for holy, qodes, meant “things belonging to God.” 

There were altars, places, the temple, and items involved in worship that were to be “made holy” by consecrating them only for God. 

In addition, God told Moses, “Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them, You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (Leviticus 19:2). The people of Israel were set apart and asked to live holy lives because they belonged to God and therefore were consecrated for his holy work. 

In the New Testament, the word for holiness is similar but not exactly the same. Hagiazo meant “things that are made holy.” A person is made holy through the blood of Christ, and we are set apart from others in our world as a result. 

According to the New Testament, those who have received the Holy Spirit of Christ have been made holy. 

Christians are holy. 

We don’t need to work to be holy. We work to live as holy. 

Are you comfortable with your holiness? 

It’s not easy for Christians to see ourselves as holy, but we are. 

Jesus paid for our eternity. We have a new name. We are the adopted children of God. We have a first-class, paid-in-advance room on the ark. 

In other words, we survive the world’s upcoming flood eternally. For now, holiness means we live on the ark, separated from the world but still in it. 

The only remaining questions are: When will the rain begin, and when will God shut the door? 

Holiness is living our redeemed life 

I really enjoyed watching A Rush of Hope over the Labor Day weekend. 

According to reports, thousands of people gave their lives to Christ for the first time because they watched. Greg Laurie’s message was clear, biblical evangelism. A lot of people “booked their room” on the ark. 

I also watched I Can Only Imagine one more time. Laurie used clips from the movie in A Rush of Hope. I Can Only Imagine is a great reminder of the power of God to change a person’s life. 

In the movie, Bart Millard said something like, “My dad was a monster. But he became a good man through his faith in Christ. If Jesus can change my dad from a monster to a good man, Jesus can redeem anyone’s life.” 

If you grew up in the church like I did, our redeemed lives probably don’t look drastically different than our lives before salvation. But they are. 

Do you ever think about what your life would look like if you hadn’t met Jesus? 

Maybe we should rewrite the first line of Millard’s song with that thought: I can only imagine what it would be like If I could never walk by his side. 

We are called to be holy

I wrote a book more than a decade ago and titled it Content to be Good, Called to Be Godly. 

I was a preacher’s wife who felt like God’s church was headed in some wrong directions. Evangelism had often been exchanged for tolerance, and tolerance had offered inclusion. The problem was, some felt included by the church who might not have been included on the ark. I wanted to write a book to help people understand what God wants for our lives. 

God’s standards are high and holy. Jesus came to be both Savior and Lord. We aren’t allowed to lower God’s standards of faith in order to make people more comfortable. 

Why do Christians want to believe we are supposed to try to fit in with non-Christians? 

Why do we think we are supposed to act more like the world so that the world won’t think of us as “holier than thou?” 

Arrogance isn’t godly, but neither is pretending to be less than holy. 

Our faith in Christ sets us apart from the rest of the world. We have been “made holy.” Jesus paid the ultimate price for our safe passage on the ark. 

We shouldn’t want to go swimming in the floodwaters. 

Get comfortable with holiness

The point of this blog post is this: if we are uncomfortable with holiness, we probably won’t wear it. 

First Peter 5:5 tells Christians to “clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’” In other words, holiness looks a lot like humility. We are supposed to wear it so Jesus will be noticed, not us. 

We didn’t earn our passage on the ark; it was a gift from Jesus. Let’s wear our gratitude for his gift each day. 

It isn’t comfortable at first, but, like most well-made garments, it gets more comfortable over time. In fact, if we wear our holiness every day, it might begin to feel like our favorite old T-shirts. 

People are observing our lives, and we will have the opportunity to help some gain safe passage on the ark. Everyone has been offered a ticket, but each person needs to get on board—before the rain starts and God closes the door. 

Get comfortable with your holiness. 

God paid a great price so you could own it. 

When the gate closes and the ramp is withdrawn, everyone will be wearing holiness. 

Then we will feel like we belong in the crowd. 

Until that day, get comfortable with feeling set apart, consecrated to God. 

The Solid Rock Isn’t a Comfortable Place to Sit

I watched two boys swimming in the pond and wondered what to do. The younger boy wasn’t as good a swimmer as his older brother, and, when he was halfway across the pond, I started to worry about him. I was relieved to see him finally stand up and walk to the edge.

A few minutes later, the two boys were standing on their surfboard-like raft. The older boy was trying to take away the oar from his younger brother. He jerked at it and sent the younger boy into the pond with a splash, his head just missing the big rocks near the edge.

Added to that, my husband had told me a few weeks earlier to be watchful because he had seen a cottonmouth snake slither into that same pond. I looked all over for an adult who might be watching over these two, but, after several minutes, I still didn’t see anyone. So, I made a choice. I called out to the boys and suggested they should get out of the pond because we had seen a snake in there.

About five minutes later, my doorbell rang. The boy’s mom was polite, but I could tell she was “not pleased” that I had interfered with the situation. She informed me she had been watching from the balcony several doors down. I responded politely and told her about the cottonmouth snake. She said she was aware there were snakes, but that those snakes were afraid of people and she didn’t think that was a problem. I told her that I was glad to know the boys were being watched, introduced myself, and made a lame excuse, saying, “Once a schoolteacher, always a schoolteacher.”

I still don’t know if I did the right thing or the wrong thing speaking to those boys, but it didn’t feel right to just stand there and watch either.

I’ve always loved Edward Mote’s hymn that says, “On Christ the Solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand . . . all other ground is sinking sand.” The unsung truth about a solid rock is that it really isn’t possible to sit on one for very long. Solid rocks don’t make for comfy places to rest for long periods of time. After a short time, the only way to feel good is to stand up and move around a bit. I spent some time applying the wisdom of the hymn to my situation with those two boys.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

I wish I had said a quick prayer and asked Jesus if I should have spoken to those boys. I might have done the same thing, or I might have been led to just watch them for a while longer. I didn’t take time to trust the situation to Jesus, so I don’t know if I did the right thing. I didn’t lean on Jesus because I was too busy thinking I should fix it myself.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

I didn’t know the right thing to do, so I acted out of fear for those boys. How often have I made decisions from a place of unknowing darkness only to find that it would have been better to wait? Sometimes the storms of life produce fear, and fear is rarely a right motivation for action.

His oath, His covenant, His blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

I didn’t see anyone watching those kids, but it didn’t mean there was no one watching. Sometimes it seems like God isn’t there or isn’t enough, and so there is nobody else to fix it. Scripture, and the words of this hymn, would argue that point. God has promised he is always there and always enough — and that should always be our hope.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

I doubt that will be the last time I jump in to fix something that probably didn’t need to be fixed. I just hope that the next time I see something I think is a problem I will ask God what to do before I think I know what to do. I’m grateful for the grace God has offered me in Christ Jesus, and I look forward, with joy, to the day I enter eternity and no longer need it. I look forward to being “faultless” before his throne.

In closing, I will say this. I function with the philosophy that once a person knows the right thing to believe and do, they should think it and do it. Whatever consequences come with a right choice are the consequences we should accept. Christ truly is our Solid Rock. But that rock isn’t a place where Christians are supposed to rest and do nothing.

I am trying to learn my lessons along the way about how to stand. I’m just hoping the next time I “jump” is because Jesus told me what to do and how to do it. Once we know we are supposed to jump, the only questions are how far and how high.

Enjoy your week. But one word of wisdom from the teacher in me: I still think it’s best not to swim with the snakes. Think about that and you will understand the deeper thoughts behind this blog post.